


Something Like Strength

by blanketed_in_stars



Series: 52 Weeks of Wolfstar [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1982, Birthday, Full Moon, Grief/Mourning, Loneliness, M/M, Moving On, Post-First War with Voldemort, Tea, and remus's birthday was the 10th obviously, did you know that march 9th 1982 was a full moon, how delightful i hate being sad, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/pseuds/blanketed_in_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The woman on his doorstep looks too much like her sister and acts too much like her cousin, but Remus lets her in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Week 20

There is blood on Remus's sock, and he notices for the first time the cut on his leg. _"Vulnera Sanentur,"_ he murmurs as his wand trembles in his hand. He repeats the incantation twice more and rolls the cuff of his trousers back down.

The ache in his bones has never been quite this bad, he thinks. His spine feels brittle, as if standing would snap it in two, and his skin is paper-thin. It was never like this before, or if it was, he didn't notice. There was always someone to help him forget.

"Happy birthday," he mutters, and drops his wand onto the table. He picks it up again immediately because leaving it there is a surefire way to get it snapped, the way Sirius is always putting his feet up on the furniture. Remus blinks, says "oh," and lets the wand fall again. Four months and he is still struggling to breathe around the absence.

There's a knock on the door, and Remus is confused. No one visits him anymore except for Dumbledore and Mad-Eye, and they never come the day after the full moon. He used to be entertaining constantly, if one can call sitting in a chair and nodding from time to time "entertaining"—Hagrid and his parents and Kingsley and even Minerva all sitting in the cottage, sometimes together, sometimes on their own. But then his mother died and the others, he supposes, felt much too sorry for him, and now he mostly just tries not to think.

But now someone is knocking. He rises and feels his spine straighten, holding his body together with frightening frailty. As he walks down the hall, he can see the silhouette through the frosted glass. As always, he thinks of Sirius and how he looked on the doorstep, and swallows.

There is a woman standing there, with light brown hair and wide eyes. His mind flashes for a moment to another woman, all darkness and heavy-lidded arrogance, but no, this is—

"I'm sorry," says Andromeda before he can speak. "I hope I'm not intruding. Do you have a moment?"

Remus nods. If she's anything like her cousin, he knows it will take much longer than a moment. "Come in," he says, holding the door open wider.

"Thank you." Andromeda stands squinting in the dim hall and Remus hurries to turn on the light.

He leads her into the sitting room. Remus is suddenly aware of just how neglectful he's been, how there is dust on almost everything and how the books on the coffee table look like dead leaves.

"I don't mean to—to intrude," Andromeda repeats, seeming unsure as she looks around at the room.

"It's fine," Remus says. "Have a seat." He hesitates above his own chair, frozen on the brink of remembering his manners. "Er—would you like some tea?"

Andromeda flushes as if embarrassed. "Please."

Relieved, Remus goes into the kitchen and fills the kettle with tap water. It boils with a tap from his wand. When he brings two hot mugs out into the sitting room, Andromeda takes hers with a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Remus clutches his mug to warm his hands, cold and painful in the waning of the moon. "So, what are you—that is," he amends to the tea, "what can I do for you?"

Andromeda seems reluctant to answer. But she was born a Black, so Remus isn't surprised when her answer is blunt. "I want to know more about Sirius."

The keen needlepoint of pain jabs at Remus. "About Sirius?" he echoes, more surprised than he should be. This is, after all, the only thing they have in common.

"Yes." Andromeda draws the word out into two uncertain syllables. "I thought—" She stops and sighs. "They sent Bella to Azkaban last week. And I started thinking about my family." Remus notices the familiar disgust in her voice, finds that he has almost missed it. "We're the only two who left, you know. If that's what you call being disowned. Anyways, we always got on well when we were kids, but I haven't seen him much since I married Ted, and lately I've been wondering how he could, well. You know."

"I know," Remus agrees, thinking that he is most definitely not ready for this conversation. Or qualified. "I'm not sure," he starts, but Andromeda talks over him.

"It's just, I always thought we were alike. Both of us blasted off the tapestry, both of us moving on. So I wanted to find out more about him, about why he did—what he did." She sips her tea in the silence that follows.

Remus hears how her voice is suddenly higher. It occurs to him that this has hurt her perhaps as much as it's hurt him. But he shakes his head. "I don't think I'm the right person to ask."

Andromeda tilts her head very slightly to one side with typical Black poise. "You were his best friend."

"That was James." Not that she can ask James anymore.

As if the same thought crosses her mind, Andromeda frowns. "I asked Alastor Moody and Arthur Weasley, and they both said I should talk to you. They said you knew him very well."

"I thought I did." Remus takes a long drink of tea. "As it turns out, he was a stranger."

Andromeda looks disappointed. "You have no idea? None at all?"

Remus shakes his head, not trusting his voice. He can't tell her about the distance between them, the fathoms that separated them for over a year. He's been thinking, too, and he can't escape that niggling doubt, that if he'd just paid a bit more attention… "None," he manages at last. The word comes out like cracking ice.

"I see," Andromeda says. From the way she's looking at him, it seems she really does see him—how close he is to breaking. Something in her eyes changes. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment.

"For what?"

She takes another sip from her mug before answering. "For what he did."

Remus mirrors her in the tilt of his head. "You didn't do it. You don't need to apologize."

Andromeda shrugs. "Someone ought to."

It's the way she says it, almost indignant. Or maybe it's the impatient quirk of her lips. Whatever the reason, Remus feels something strange on his face. It takes him a moment to realize that it's a smile.

Andromeda smiles too. She glances around the gloomy room, which doesn't seem quite as gloomy anymore. "Mr. Lupin," she says, "how long has it been since you went outside?"

The question doesn't feel like an intrusion, even though Remus is pretty sure that it is one. "I was out last night," he says. To his shame, without Padfoot or Prongs, the wolf roams free. He Apparates to the remotest bit of countryside that he can find, but each new month still terrifies him.

"I mean really out," she says. Suddenly, he's certain that she knows. He scrutinizes her face, so much like the one on the Ministry posters, but all he sees there is sympathy.

"A few days," he admits, sighing a little.

"I think," she says, and places her mug firmly on the table beside his wand, "it would do you a great deal of good to find something to occupy yourself."

"Did Dumbledore put you up to this?" Remus asks, gripped by a sudden suspicion.

She shakes her head with a sad little smile. "Moody. Happy birthday, by the way."

Remus feels himself flush. "He could have come to see me himself," he mutters into his tea.

"I wanted to talk to you anyways—about Sirius, like I said. Moody simply suggested that I try getting you to leave the house." She looks apologetic, but not very. "He's quite convincing. And I must say, I think he's right."

"Do you?" The smile has faded from his face by now, and he sighs again. "I don't have anything to occupy myself _with,_ " he tells her. "I wouldn't know where to start." It feels like weakness to admit it, but there's also a sense of relief—yes, he is in pieces. "It's been four months but it's not getting any easier."

Andromeda clasps her hands together. "It won't, until you pick yourself up and find something worth living for."

"Like what?"

"That's really something only you can answer," she says. "I've only known you for twenty minutes, but I'm certain you're going to survive this."

Remus isn't so sure. "How do you know?"

"Well," she says, "if you were going to let it kill you, you'd already be dead."

Two hours later, as Remus waves goodbye, the _Daily Prophet's_ job listings are tucked beneath one arm. He closes the door and walks back down the hall. In the sitting room, he picks up his wand, and his hand doesn't tremble.


End file.
